Suits at Play
by Mix Matcher
Summary: AU FN@F horror story. The poor employees had no idea what was coming. May or may not write a part two. Cross posted on deviantArt.


"Alright, everyone. Time to clean up." The manager of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria called out to the staff. "You know the routine."

"Yes, sir." Chica called and gave a joking salute to him. He retreated into his office as she turned to the bathrooms. "Freddy!" she drew out the 'e' in her high voice. "Help me clean."

Fred looked down from the stage as he reset the animatronics. "I'll be down in a minute. I've got to deal with these controls." He returned to the control panels of the chicken.

Chica stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "Fine. Meanie." She spun, her skirt flaring out, and grabbed the mop and bucket from the floor as she stormed to the women's restroom. She closed the door and set to work.

Bonnie went around to the tables. "Which is grosser, Fred? The tables or the bathrooms?"

The man on stage laughed. "That's a close one. But boogers and vomit aren't as bad as some of the gifts those kids leave in the bathrooms."

The purple haired male nodded. "You got that right."

The darker skinned man climbed down from the stage. "You have to admit, though. They're mostly pretty good kids." He pulled out a cloth from his apron and helped wipe down the tables.

"Still, though," Bonnie sighed, setting new table covers and party hats on the plastic boards.

Bonnie and Fred turned to the doors as they opened and waved to the night guard as he walked in. "Night, Jeremy."

"Night guys," he called back.

"Let's go take care of the stage lights."

Fred nodded, and finished the last table. He jumped back onto the stage and took Bonnie's hand, helping him up. "Let's hurry. I promised Foxy I'd give him a ride home."

"The actors have it so easy. They just have to play with the kids." Bonnie pulled his long hair out of its hair tie and ran a hand through it, walking back to the circuit boards.

"No way," The waiter objected. "He has to clean the Kid's Cove all by himself."

The purple haired male looked at him, confused. "Really? I thought all the actors helped clean it up."

Fred shook his head. "Nah, the fur suit guys never help anyone clean."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

"They don't care," Fred scowled and opened the breaker. "It'd be nice if they could pitch in, though.

Together the men flipped the switched and listened to the clicks and stutters of the machines dying down. Bonnie, with a heads up to Fred, started to the front early while Fred gathered up the loose cables and packed the speakers away.

The next sound Fred heard was the eardrum shattering high pitched scream of Freddy Fazbear's only female employee.

"Chica?" He called, stumbling through the dimly lit backstage to the dining room. He never saw the man behind him, only the distressed looking faces of three other employees before his vision went black.

While Freddy went in and out of consciousness, bound tightly by some thing or another, he recalled vaguely seeing the horrors of what happened in front of him.

Bonnie, he was first, Freddy thought, from his hazy, pain addled memories. It was when he woke up he saw the bloodied hand reaching out for him. The skin had been completely cut off in a crude fashion. Fred thought he might have seen a dark pool around his legs and wondered what had happened to them. When Fred looked to his left, he caught sight of the teenager's other arm laying limp on the floor, completely severed.

The dark skinned male attempted to fight off the urge to vomit.

He lost that fight, though as he was forced to watch a man he vaguely recognized, as the man who wore the Birthday Bear suit for the kids, sit heavily on Bonnie's back, pulling his head back by the hair, as he took a large knife and began to slice his face off while he screamed and begged, blood pouring heavier as the assailant cut deeper.

Eventually the poor man's face had been completely removed, the skin tossed carelessly to the floor over his arm. Fred felt tears fall down his face. He watched the younger man struggle to stay alive. But the man turned him around onto his back and, raising the knife high, drove it down through Bonnie's skull, right between his eyes.

Chica let out another scream. And Fred wondered, where was Jeremy right now? When they needed him, when Bonnie had just been murdered in front of him. Had the man gotten to him as well?

As Freddy began to drift out of consciousness again, entertained the idea that the bash to his head had broken his skull. The last thing he saw at this point was that damned man approaching Chica. Tears mixed with the blood trailing down his face as the girl's desperate, terrified face imprinted itself behind his eyelids.


End file.
